


Hitching a Ride Home

by orphan_account



Series: Sherlock Random Prompts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Booty Calls, Brother Feels, Drinking & Talking, Drunk Dialing, Drunk John, Drunk Sex, Drunk Texting, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Emotionally Repressed, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mycroft's Meddling, Oral Sex, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets drunk at the local pub and picks a random number to dial for some much-needed sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitching a Ride Home

**Author's Note:**

> I do NOT own BBC's Sherlock or its characters.
> 
> Inspired by a random prompt received from this magnificent website: http://www.archetypewriting.com/muse/generators/plot.htm
> 
> Prompt reads:  
> The story starts when your protagonist gets drunk.
> 
> Another character once hitched a ride with your protagonist.

Heavy dance music pounded away at John's already fragile ear-drums. His mind was a flurry of technicolor lights and sexual lyrics. He scoped the bar for potential hook-ups but nothing looked particularly promising and the bar-tender was one shot away from cutting him off. Just great. The night was ending before it ever had a chance to flourish into what would hopefully be the end of the three month long dry spell that John was enduring. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glared into the bright light of the screen.

'When are you coming home. -SH' Oh bugger that idiot, cock-blocking him all the time by referring to his girlfriends as numbers. It was his fault that he was in this mess. He might as well show him and not come home at all. Ha! That would put that bastard through the ringer. That pale, glorious bastard. John shook the thoughts out of his head and felt a sickly burp rise in his throat. Absent-mindedly he poked at the contacts button. Huh?

John suddenly decided to set a little challenge for himself. He would close his eyes, scroll through his contacts, and booty call whatever number he happened to pick. Yeah, that would at least result in something interesting. He was likeable. There was bound to be somebody in his laundry list of female numbers that still wanted him. He smiled to himself, feeling cocky. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. His other senses automatically raised and the bass washed over him with a heavy crash. His fingers scrolled and he scolded himself into not counting in an attempt to memorize the list. He hovered over a number with a promising aura and pushed. Opening his eyes without checking who he had chosen he wrote:

'Hey, I'm really drunk and can't get home and I need you. -JW' 

And send. That's how it all started. Less than one minute later his phone buzzed in response. John covered his phone before opening it to avoid ruining the surprise.

'I will be there in five minutes.' It was enigmatic, no initials. John buzzed delightfully with excitement. He pulled his coat on and walked out of the bar to wait for his mystery ride home. 

When the posh dark black vehicle finally pulled up in front of him and emitted a gentle honk of the horn, John grinned like an idiot before climbing into the passenger seat.

"Hellooo" a familiar voice sang in the driver seat making John jump at how inherently male it was.

"My-Mycroft? What are you doing here?"

"I'm taking you home. You asked me to. Remember?" Mycroft asked knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. Had John really been that inebriated? 

"No. Well yeah, but that text it had a very clear context. Why did you come? Why didn't you just say no?" John flushed bright red looking down at his lap. Dammit. Just dammit. He just wanted to go home now and pass out on his bed. He wasn't about to get out of the car and try again. There was no way he could get off with a woman having shared this awkward moment with Mycroft just prior. Why had he come anyway? Was he really just so dense that he didn't catch the actual meaning of a booty call?

"I've given you a ride home before," Mycroft just smirks, "And yes, as a matter of fact I did catch your subtext and I came because I wanted to John." 

Oh God. Did Mycroft really just say that? Did Mycroft really just imply that he wanted to sleep with John? The entire world was spinning at an alarmingly rapid rate. John thought he might throw up. "I- I'm not-" he started to stammer out.

"Yes yes. Not gay. We know John. Everyone knows that you say you're not gay but I know better," Mycroft chided rather teasingly. "I know how you look at my little brother. I know your most private thoughts John. By the end of tonight I will have you not only oh so sure that you are in fact gay but will also have you comfortable enough to talk to Sherlock about it." Now what the bloody hell was that? How was he supposed to expect John to come clean to Sherlock about his feelings by seducing him himself? Wouldn't that only prove to make him attracted to Mycroft? It didn't make any sense. But of course nothing made sense to John in this drunken state. John swallowed the lump in his throat and feeling a sense of approval from the other man, Mycroft proceeded to pull away from the bar in the direction of 221B Baker Street.

When they finally reached the flat Mycroft followed John inside much to his chagrin. He let out a small groan as he opened the door, happy to see that Sherlock had not waited for him. God knows he would never hear the end of it having come home with his brother. The floors creaked too loudly for John's taste under the elder Holmes' feet. He held his temples in his hands trying to drown out the entire situation. And then there was Mycroft. Mycroft everywhere. John was caged by another taller body holding him against the wall. He swallowed hard again trying to take it in and let it go. Let his mind just float somewhere else but it was difficult.

It didn't exactly help things when Mycroft placed a very chaste kiss to John's cheek. "Look, I know that you will sleep with pretty much any other man before you ever admit your feelings to Sherlock and attempt to practice your sexuality crisis with him. I just really really want you to be safe John. I care for the both of you." The lecture was less than a turn on but it did help John breathe a little easier. He could only manage to nod before Mycroft was kissing him gingerly on the lips. God this was so weird but John wasn't sure if it was weird because Mycroft was a bloke or just because Mycroft was Mycroft. He decided to explore this further by risking pulling the taller man closer to him. 

John couldn't help but note how well they fit together and how the awkwardness was melting away into the long drawn out contact. Mycroft's kisses became wetter and more heady as the scene drew out. John found that he was resisting less and even contributing slightly, approaching the event as a study much like Sherlock might. God Sherlock just get out of John's head and stay out. As though Mycroft could sense John's wandering thoughts he slid his tongue across John's lower lip no longer delaying assessing the gravity of their actions. This was the very first do or die moment of the night, and John gave in. He twisted his tongue around the government official's letting his knees buckle beneath him. So weird. But kind of a good weird. Curiously John twisted his fingers into Mycrofts hair enticing a masculine groan from the government. God that was weird. To actually hear Mycroft groan with pleasure. To hear another man take pleasure in his smallest ministrations. But strangely effective to John's cock nonetheless. He pulled at the roots of that brown-ginger hair earning himself another earnest noise and a slide of Mycroft's hardened crotch against his hip.

The erection that wasn't his own was very nearly enough to send John bolting to his bedroom screaming at Mycroft to just go away, but he powered through it, too hungry at this point to stop regardless of gender. Mycroft stopped distracting John at his lips in favor of feverishly attacking his neck setting every nerve on fire. Goose-bumps spread all over his body as he lunged into the contact letting out what could be described only as a pitiful whimper. He could feel Mycroft smirking against his skin and gave a rather hard tug at his hair as small revenge but the taller man only seemed to be enjoying it. John snaked a hand up the front of Mycroft's shirt getting a feel of his smooth bare chest, getting himself used to the very masculine territory before him. Weird. Weird. God-damned weird but oh god that suction on his neck was so good and the noises that came out of this human when he pinched at a nipple.

"We should really take this upstairs," Mycroft proposed calmly pulling at John's jumper. Again all John could manage was an anxious nod before he let the other man guide him up the stairs to his bedroom. He landed on the soft duvet of his ever familiar bed followed by the ever unfamiliar and sexually frustrated Mycroft Holmes. Another do or die moment was approached as Mycroft attempted to pull John's jumper over his head. Without much of a mental fight John allowed it even pulling the buttons of Mycroft's shirt loose in exchange. Mycroft managed to push John back onto the mattress to suck at places on John's chest he wasn't even aware were sensitive. By the time Mycroft's talented tongue started working at his nipples John was keening into the contact knowing he was lost, anticipating without fear. 

The rift was reached again as Mycroft worked at unbuttoning John's trousers but for the love of god John just didn't care. It was rather unexpected that Mycroft also pulled John's pants down with his trousers but John's erection was happy to be freed of the restricting cloth. His cock bobbed freely pulsing with sheer need. Three months was beginning to feel like three years. Myroft took the time to drink in the impressive length with his dark brown eyes before licking a strip of saliva from base to tip. "Oh god yes," John groaned above him thrusting as to push his erection just against the tip of Mycroft's nose. This earned him another smirk from the all-knowing Holmes. John could even hear a low chuckle in his throat before he engulfed half of John's prick in his mouth and "OH GOD!" Did he just do that out loud? Oops. 

John was so taken with the steady bobbing motions slowly enveloping his cock in heat that he hadn't taken the time to observe the elder Holmes beginning to lube up his fingers with a mystery tube from god-knows-fucking-where. He had only become aware of it when he could feel his cold wet index pressing softly at his entrance. "Oh god no no no," John chuckled but he pressing and circling was insistent. "God NO! Myc. You can't be serious," and then it was pressing into him "No no no no no Myc no. God no," John pleaded when suddenly "Oh fuck YES! God! Myc! What the holy fuck was that? Don't care! Just- again!"

"Surely you know what that was John, you're a doctor for god's sake," Mycroft teased pulling off his cock.

"Shut up. Shut up and do it again. Oh yes god there! Ohhhhh fuck that's so good." John was bucking down onto the hilt of Mycroft's finger now needing more contact, more friction. "I- I think I could take another," he whispered breathlessly and Mycroft obliged. "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!" John in his drunken state didn't care how loud or how wanton he was being so long as this kept feeling so fucking good. By the time Mycroft inserted a third finger he was a shaking mess of pleasure that wasn't just enough to get him anywhere. Mycroft pulls away and wriggles out of his trousers and pants looking pleadingly and John who is whimpering from loss.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Mycroft asks in that huskily low voice.

"Oh god! Do what you want. Just touch me! I- I need it," John whines rolling his head from side to side. Mycroft slowly rolled a condom (another god-knows-where-from object) onto himself. With express permission given at the final crossroads, Mycroft eased his way slowly into John taking care to observe his steady change in facial expression. He reached out a hand to caress John's soft blond hair as away to sooth him as he finally settled balls-deep into the man. "Ahh. God. Move please," John sighed throwing his head back onto the pillow. Mycroft began moving at a steady pace angling himself thoughtfully to smooth the tip of his cock across John's prostate with every thrust. He firmly placed one hand at John's hip while wrapping the other around his cock, pumping slowly in time with his thrusts. "Oh yes! God that's good. Thank you. Oh! Ah fuck!" John tried to focus on the mixture of sensations though the dizziness in his brain. 

Okay. Let's think here. Okay so this was good. The fingering was good, and even feeling Mycroft inside him was pretty good. Enjoying gay sex was really about as gay as it got. So settled then, he's gay, or at least bisexual so there's that and- "OH GOD MMNNH YES!" and so maybe he could be with Sherlock. Sherlock was certainly attractive. Sherlock was- "SHE-" Mycroft quickly cut him off with a kiss to keep him from making an arse of himself. The kind of call only a sober man could make "Shi-shit," John covered for himself realising how big a mistake that could have been. Mycroft just smirked down at him happy that his goal was being met. He definitely had John thinking now. Mycroft's breathing became laboured as heat coiled in his gut and his balls pulled tight against him. Luckily for him John wouldn't last very long either. "Oh- OH GOD!" They both came hard, John with a shout and Mycroft with a stifled groan. 

They lay there breathing heavily for awhile, basking in the after-glow without touching one another. Mycroft pulled himself together and disposed of the used condom in a waste basket beside John's bedside table. He pulled his clothes back on throwing a packet of tissues to John commanding that he clean himself up and in his post-coital stupor John obliged. "Get dressed," Mycroft barked and John did. "I'm going to need you to go downstairs and assure that Sherlock is completely occupied so that I can get out of here. I can't have him knowing that I've just fucked his boyfriend." John growled begrudgingly but Mycroft just winked.

John made his way down the stairs, the front room was still empty. He knocked lightly at Sherlock's door to see if he was in. "Come on in John," his croaky voice replied. John opened the door and closed it quickly behind him, standing in front of it as to prevent a curious escape from the detective. 

"Hey," John said pitifully still all fucked out and nervous as all hell to even be in the same room as Sherlock after what had transpired.

"So. Who's Mike? That's new," Sherlock asked rather oblivious.

"Oh. Oh. He's just some guy that kind of helped me realise something important. About that, there's something I really need to talk to you about Sherlock." He could hear the front door click shut and let out a small sigh of relief.

"John. I know and I don't really think I want to have this conversation right after you've gotten done with having sex with another man. I care for you deeply John let's just talk about this in the morning hmm?" Sherlock smiled.

"A-about you and I?" John asked for good measure.

"Yes John. About you and I." Sherlock rolled his eyes but he smiled. He wasn't being sarcastic. He hadn't deduced who exactly John's partner was up there. He strode over to John and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "Good night John," he cooed opening the door behind the doctor's back.

"Yeah. Yeah good night 'lock." John was still stunned and now absolutely love drunk. He had to remind himself to send off a thank you card to Mycroft in the morning.


End file.
